Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dante
After lunch, I walk Lexi back to my building.
“Thanks.” She shoves her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I guess I’ll grab a cab.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
I take my phone from my pocket and call one of my men.
She tips her face up to me. “Will I see you later?”
“Tomorrow.”
She looks disappointed, but she nods.
“Lexi,” I say with warning, continuing when I have her full attention. “We shouldn’t rush things. My wife may need time. She may not like the idea.”
“I understand.”
“I warned you not to hope.”
“I’m a big girl, Dante. I know what I can and can’t expect from you.”
The driver pulls up. Once I’ve seated her in the back of the car and given him her address, I call my own driver.
He arrives with two men.
I tell the driver where to go.
We get to the lookout point a good hour later. Viktor Skripchenko is already there, leaning against the hood of a gotta-have-it-green Ford Mustang. Two men flank him. As agreed, we didn’t bring more guards.
I check the drone footage on my phone to ensure I’m not walking into a trap, but the infrared cameras show the surroundings are clear.
My driver parks a hundred yards from our welcoming party. I get out on the dirt road, scouting the deserted fields.
Skripchenko keeps his gaze on my face as I walk over. He hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw him. He still has baggy eyes and a double chin.
“Pakhan,” I say, stopping a few paces away from him.
He straightens. “Dante Morici.”
We don’t shake hands. We’re not enemies, but we’re not friends either. For the sake of unnecessary bloodshed, we merely tolerate each other.
“It’s been a while,” he drawls. “You’ve climbed the ladder in the hierarchy. I didn’t think you’d make it this far. On how many people did you have to step to get to the top?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “We’re not all like you. Some of us get there on our own merit.”
He makes a mocking sound. “Did you ask for this meeting to tell me you’re going to pay your brother-in-law’s debt?”
“You know my history with Teszner better than that.”
“Indeed.” He crosses his arms and leans on the hood of his car again. “I heard you married his sister.” He studies me through squinted eyes. “And that she had your kid.”
I stiffen. “You heard right, but I’m not here to discuss my family.” I take my phone from my pocket and show him the photo of Gavril Dmitriev. “Care to tell me why this man tried to kill me?”
He raises on the balls of his feet to peer at the photo and then goes back to slouching on the hood. “He’s not one of my men.”
“He moved drugs for one of your middlemen.”
He shrugs. “As I said, not one of mine.”
“What about Naomi Foster?” I flick over the screen, pulling up her photo. “Does she ring a bell?”
“Pretty.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “In a cheap kind of way.” Meeting my gaze, he says in a level tone, “She never rang any bell of mine.”
I swipe to the photos of the mercenaries. “These men?”
“Common thugs.” He narrows his eyes. “What do they have to do with me?”
“I don’t know, Viktor. Nothing?”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Naomi Foster and these mercenaries were involved in my wife’s kidnapping.
When Naomi offered to sell me information, someone took her out.
Gavril Dmitriev was one of her regulars.
When I approached him for a friendly chat, he threw a knife at me.
I was just wondering if you knew how the puzzle pieces fit together. ”
He looks at me with a raised brow and big eyes, as if everything I’ve said is news to him. “Who took Naomi out?”
“A rat in my organization. He’s dead now. When I find out who he ratted to, that person will be dead too.”
“Well, it wasn’t me.” Laughing, he straightens. “It seems you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“Are you denying involvement with any of these people?”
“Categorically.”
“What about Teszner?” I ask when he turns to leave.
He pauses. “His father and I went way back. We had a—How shall I call it?—love-hate relationship. He wasn’t the world’s most popular person, but he had a good sense for business.
I could respect that. It’s the only reason I agreed to lend his son money.
” He comes closer, standing toe to toe with me.
“But if he doesn’t pay it back soon, I’ll be knocking at his door. ”
I chuckle. “You’ll have to get in line. The loan sharks are after him too.”
He watches me with a shrewd expression. “There’s word on the street that you cut out his tongue for insulting his sister.”
“I poked out his eyes too, and I’ll do the same to any person who looks wrong at my wife.”
He clucks. “Have I discovered a weakness?”
“Nothing you won’t do for your family in a similar situation, I hope.”
His expression turns sour. Everyone knows he hates his wife, who was given to him as part of a marriage contract. Her father is a powerful player in Russia, and Skripchenko can’t get rid of her without starting a war.
“I’ll tell you if I hear anything,” he says with a flat smile.
I return the gesture. “I’ll take it as an insult if you don’t.”
He flicks his fingers at his men, who shoots us bashful grins as they get into the Mustang. Skripchenko waves as he burns the tires and takes off in a cloud of dust.
I stare after his car.
For his sake, I hope he didn’t lie to me.
My phone rings. My gut tightens when I see the caller ID.
Pressing the phone to my ear, I make my way back to my car with long strides. “Ulysses?”
“Is the meeting over?”
“We’ve just wrapped it up.”
“How did it go?” His tone is dry. “Is he alive?”
“Yes,” I bite out. “He didn’t give me anything of value. He denied knowing any of them.”
Not that I expected much, but I’ve laid down a just cause for war.
It’s a well-known fact that Skripchenko uses the mercenaries for his dirty work.
If he knows something or is involved with the people who abducted Tatiana and he chooses to keep his mouth shut, no one will blame me if I take him out.
“But you didn’t call me to ask how my meeting went.” I stop next to the car. Ulysses isn’t a man for idle chat. He never calls unless there’s a problem. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mrs. Morici.”
I freeze, dread filling my veins. “What happened?”
“She saw you at the Italian restaurant.”
“Fuck.” I yank the door open and get inside. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this, and you needed to keep your cool for that meeting.”
My men follow suit, slamming the doors when they’re in the car.
I start the engine. “Where is she?”
“At the house.”
“Keep her there,” I grunt out before ending the call and flooring the gas.